


For whom the bell tolls

by anwise_gamgee



Series: Choices [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2315009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anwise_gamgee/pseuds/anwise_gamgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he’s about to close his church for the night, Father Wood has an unexpected visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For whom the bell tolls

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the first I’ve written in a very, very, very long time, so you’ll have to excuse if there are mistakes, bad phrasings, bad plot… But my Muse paid me an unexpected visit when the photo of Elijah as a priest was posted here: http://tol-eressea.dreamwidth.org/415081.html  
> Also, I’m not a religious person, but I tried my best to respect christian beliefs (yeah, yeah, even in an R-rated fic :p). I also chose to settle the story in a catholic environment, because in my country it’s been the main religion for a very long time, so I kinda know a bit more about it, and also because I thought it made the sexuality issues more interesting. Still, my knowledge about the subject is very limited, so don’t take any of this too seriously ;)  
> Anyway, it’s good to be back on tracks, so I hope you’ll enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it for you :)

Father Elijah Wood looked nervously around the empty church. He was positive he had heard some noise, like somebody opening a wooden door. Whatever it had been, it was nowhere in sight.

As a young catholic priest just out of seminary, Father Wood was very anxious to win the trust and respect of his parishioners. He had been affected to a very small and isolated town, and life there was slow and undisturbed. The main sources of distraction were the occasional fairs and - more frequently - local gossip.

After three months of service in that area, Elijah Wood had mainly succeeded in winning the approval of the female parishioners, most of them being more motivated by his good looks than his good preaching. But at least they came to church every sunday, dragging along their husbands and children, an they found in him a supportive ear to their small daily troubles.

But some of the kids, the eldest of them, had started to pick at him from time to time (it was easy with him being so young), and were often making pranks around the church. No longer than three days before, the young Jessie Dawson had hidden frogs in the stoup, which resulted in Father Wood’s sunday sermon being punctuated by loud croaks. Ever since that incident, he made a point of checking the church thoroughly every night before closing it.

There it was again, the noise, definitely like someone had opened a door. There was a creaking of wood. The confessional. 

Swiftly, the young priest strode off to the source of the noise. He leaned against the confessional’s wooden door, cleared his throat and asked:

‘Hello? Is somebody in here?’

There was no response. He went on, certain than someone was hiding inside.

‘Look, I’m going to close the church soon, you have to come out. I’ll open the door now, is that alright with you?’

Thinking that he would probably look stupid if no one was inside (and who but God could make fun of him, then?), Elijah opened the door. It creaked loudly, and revealed a man all clad in orange, sitting on the little wooden bench. Elijah jumped, recognizing the uniform, but said nothing.

‘I wish to confess’, the man said in a rugged voice.

‘You shouldn’t be here’, Elijah answered without thinking, his voice blank.

‘I wish to confess’, the man insisted, his eyes like guns pointing at the young priest’s head.

His mind was rushing. This man had clearly escaped from prison. The nearest prison was miles and miles away, how had he ended up here? Why did he want to confess? Should Elijah try and call for help? But this was, after all, the house of God, and this man may have come here for help.

He took a deep breath, closed the door hiding the convict, and opened the door to his own seat on the other side of the confessional. He sat down, and asked directly, forgetting the usual formula that accompanied every confession:

‘So, what do you wish to confess?’

‘Pretty forward, for a priest, eh?’

‘I’m sorry, this is rather… unusual, and I must say that I’m not as experienced as I wish I was, given the situation.’

‘You mean you’ve not yet taken the ‘handle ex-cons’ confessions’ class?’, he laughed. There was something soft about his voice now, maybe he sounded a little nervous. But Elijah did not laugh.

‘Ex-convict? That is not the impression I got. But I’m not here to judge you… my son. I’m ready to hear you out.’

‘Well, I’ve made an ex-con out of myself, it seems. And as for being your son, _you_ could almost be _mine_ , so drop it, please.’

‘Alright, go on.’

Elijah was really nervous now. Without thinking, he had grabbed his rosary, and was fidgeting with it, not reciting prayers in his head like he ordinarily would, but pulling at the beads haphazardly. The escaped prisoner went on:

‘I have to confess, because what I did was bad, like, really, really bad. But there was no other way, I couldn’t let ‘em do what they did and say nothing. That’s why I run away.’

He paused, Elijah was confused. The inmate’s voice was slowly changing from rugged to soft, yet tainted with anger and a feeling of injustice. It seemed like his years of seminary had vanished into thin air, as he was consumed with curiosity. He tried to clear his head, and said:

‘I don’t understand, what happened?’

‘I was in prison for a few months, something about debts that I could not pay. In my block, there was this guy, a junky, looking all young and pretty.’ The prisoner talked fast, like he wanted his story out and done with.

‘Well, the other guys kept picking at him, and some of them probably abused him, too.’ Anger and helplessness were clear in his voice now. ‘I kept telling the COs, but they all turned a blind eye, or said he would get over it, that this was how prison worked. And then one morning…’

The story stopped, Elijah heard a sniffing sound on the other side of the wooden panel. Was he _crying_? The stranger cleared his throat and went on.

‘One morning he was found dead, and nobody would take the blame. That was clearly a suicide. But he had killed himself because of _them_. That got me so angry. But there was nothing I could do or say. Then the other day, we were out on the road in front of the jail, just a few of us and a CO, to repair the electrical gate. One of the guys started joking with the CO about Andrew - that was the junky’s name. Said all kind of dirty things about him, and that got to me. I still held a pair of pliers in my hand, so without thinking, I hit the inmate in the face with it. And then the CO tried to stop me and… I hit him too. And I run.’ There was a pause again. ‘I didn’t want to hurt them, I just wanted them to shut the fuck up about Andrew. He was just a lost kid, and now he was dead, and it was all because of them.’

‘And… that is what you wish to confess. That you have hit these men in your anger?’

‘Yeah, and also… It’s been almost three days I’m out, it’s a fucking miracle. I kinda wanted to thank God for that. For not being caught, I mean.’

‘And what are you going to do, now?’

‘Are you going to turn me in? Cause I’d understand if you did. But if you could just gimme shelter for tonight, I wouldn’t be any trouble to you. Just lock me inside the church, then you let me out on the morrow, and I’ll be good.’

‘I could call the police while you’re locked inside the church.’ There was a pause again, then the young priest got out of his cubicle and opened the door that hid the convict. A new light seemed to dawn on him, and he appeared like a very different man. He was exhausted and dirty, and his recollection of his story had made him look very sad. He looked up to the priest, and in his eyes, Elijah saw no trace of evil or cunning.

‘Come out’, he said. ‘You obviously need to rest, and as a man of God, the least I can do is give you a piece of quiet before I decide what to do with you.’ He smiled, and the convict smiled back.

‘And that’s it? You’re not asking me to recite whatever prayer? You don’t give me absolution?’ his eyes sparkled with a strange mix of mirth and weariness, and Elijah’s stomach made a flip-flop.

‘How does tea and biscuits sound to you?’

 

Thankfully for Elijah and his gossiping neighborhood, the back door of the sacristy opened right into his little house’s study. Walking behind the escaped prisoner, Father Wood locked the little church and directed them into his house. They went through the office and into the living room. There, Elijah asked the man to sit down, and went into the kitchen to make some tea and grab a plate of biscuits.

When he walked back into the living room a few minutes later, the man had not moved, but his eyes were obviously starting to close. He jumped a little when Elijah walked in and settled the tray he was carrying on the coffee table.

‘When was the last time you slept?’ he asked in worry, sitting opposite to the convict.

‘Uh, depends. I slept in a ditch on the road for a few hours before I got here.’

‘And that’s it? Good gracious, you should have said so!’

‘Well, I thought you were to decide what to do with me. Didn’t know you were concerned about my lack of sleep.’

‘I am. And about your lack of food too. Here, help yourself. Then I’ll fix you something proper to eat.’

‘Am I dead and in heaven? By the looks of you, you could almost be an angel. Ah, but you’re a priest, that’s probably the next best thing.’

Elijah hid his blush behind his cup of tea. He tried to clear his thoughts. This man was an escaped convict. He had to do something, report him to the authorities. If what he had said in the confessional was true, he was not in prison for something really severe. But he had worsened his case by hitting an inmate, a CO, and then running away. Elijah didn’t know this man’s past, but he couldn’t imagine that he was a bad man. And yet, it wasn’t his place to decide of the stranger’s fate ; but by hiding inside his church, the prisoner had made part of the choice his to make. Well, there would be time later, now he had to give the man food and rest.

‘Oh God’, the man said, ‘I was starving. I _am_ starving! Thank you so much for your help, Father er…’

‘Wood, Elijah Wood’, he answered, smiling indulgently at the man’s small profanity. ‘You can just call me Elijah. And what may I call you?’

‘Astin. Sean.’

‘Alright, Sean. Here’s what we’re going to do. First you finish your tea while I go fish something clean for you to wear. Then you go upstairs, take a shower. If you don’t mind me saying so, you seriously need it! After that, you can have dinner with me, or go straight to sleep, as you prefer. How does that sound?’

‘Sounds like a plan. Thanks Elijah, I’ll forever be in your debt. And this time I mean to pay for it’, he added with a crooked smile. That smile once again made Elijah’s stomach do flip-flops.

Trying to keep that feeling at bay, the young man got up and went to the closet in the hallway, were his predecessor had collected clothes for the needy. They were all clean, packed up and ready to be sent to the diocese, but Elijah found a pair of jeans, socks, underwear and a flannel shirt that looked about Sean’s size. He tried to convince himself that this was not to hide Sean’s convict identity, but just to make him confortable for a little while.

When he returned to the living room, the plate of biscuits was leaked clean, and Sean was drowsing once again. Elijah shook him gently and guided him to the bathroom. Giving him the clothes, he left him and went down to prepare dinner.

 

While cooking, Elijah took time to think about the situation he was in. An escaped prisoner had found shelter in his church, and now he had decided to help him restore his strength. But what would happen tomorrow? Would the man leave in the night? Should the priest call the authorities? And if he did, what would happen to him? Surely he would get into trouble for helping the man. Well, that was not a real problem, he was after all, only being a charitable christian, how could that be reproached to a priest?

As the thoughts and questions kept tumbling one after the other like beads on a rosary, Elijah carefully tried to avoid thinking about what he had felt when Sean smiled. But it was to no avail, his mind kept drifting back to it, that feeling of anticipation and fear. What should he do about that? As a catholic priest, he was sworn to celibacy, and if his faith could not always keep his carnal needs at bay, they were certainly not supposed to bend _that_ way. But well, that was lying to himself and he knew it. His inclination towards men was part of his choosing the life of a priest. At fourteen, when he had realized he was different, it had seemed obvious that this was what he had to do to make amends for such a sin. At fifteen, he had told his mother he wanted to go to the seminary, and she had approved, feeling proud that her son was such a beautiful example of catholic faith. But all his training, and praying, and preaching had not changed him. Or it had changed the way he perceived his sin. In seminary, he had met a few priests who had rather open minds about the subject, and who convinced him that he should become a forgiving, comprehensive guide to his parishioners. He had not solved his own sexuality issues, but he was certain that he would lead a peaceful and satisfying life, surrounded by the love of God as well as the love of his fellow humans.

But a few times already, this certainty had been threatened. He had blamed it on his young age and the weakness of his eager flesh, and had even indulged in occasional onanism, to appease his body and clear his mind.

Now, this was different. There was now denying he felt attracted to the man: his honest eyes with the thin laughing lines at the corners, his full lips and the way they curved when he smiled, the strength that radiated from his body, even his musky smell… Elijah had to stop his mind from wandering, for he already felt a light stirring in his loins. He turned his thoughts back to his cooking, and jumped a little when he realized that Sean was standing in the doorway, looking tired but clean. The young priest cleared his throat and asked:

‘So, dinner’s almost ready, have you decided if you want to sleep or…’

‘I’d feel ungrateful if I let you eat all by yourself like that, and besides, I’m still hungry.’

‘Dinner it is, then. Will you help me set the table?’

‘Of course.’

They ate in companionable silence, punctuated with appreciative remarks from Sean about the food. When Elijah got up to fetch the dessert, the doorbell rang. He froze.

‘Did you…’ Sean began.

‘I have no idea who it might be,’ Elijah cut him in honest panic. ‘Go upstairs, to my bedroom, quick!’

Without a word, Sean obeyed, then the priest went to open the door. He almost sighed in relief when he saw Mrs Dawson, Jessie’s mother, standing on the doorstep.

‘Good evening Father Wood’, she said with a smile, ‘I hope I’m not interrupting your dinner?’

‘I… I was just finished’, he lied. ‘How may I help you?’

‘Not at all, I came to apologize for my son’s behavior the other day. I didn’t have time to come sooner, I’m sorry. Here’s a cake I made special for you.’

Elijah knew that Mrs Dawson had a soft spot for him, and under any other circumstances he would have taken time to thank her and insist that she need not apologize for such trivial matter. But this was not any other circumstances.

‘Ah, well, really, this is very thoughtful of you Mrs Dawson. Don’t fret yourself about Jessie’s prank, I already had a talk with him.’ He took te cake she offered him and added: ‘I really need to go now, thanks for stopping by, I’ll see you on sunday!’

He closed the door. He knew it was very rude, but she was a very curious lady, and as she talked, she kept looking over his shoulder. Surely she had noticed the table was set for two? Well, at worst, she would spread the word that the priest had company and made a point of not being seen with said company, whoever it might have been. Let them have it, the gossip would not last.

Setting the cake on the counter in the kitchen, Elijah rushed upstairs. Lighting up his bedroom, he called for Sean. The escaped prisoner crawled out from under the bed.

‘It was just a parishioner, no worries.’

‘I’m sorry to have sounded like I doubted you, Elijah.’

‘Don’t worry about it, it was a natural thought. After all, I had all the time in the world to call the police while you were showering.’

‘But you did not. Well, you seemed quite in a hurry to send me to your bedroom, for a priest’, Sean joked.

Elijah’s face turned crimson. Sean seemed to notice it and added, more softly:

‘Speaking of bedroom, I think I’ll pass on dessert and go crash on the couch, if that’s okay with you.’

‘Oh, it’s a shame, Mrs Dawson has made me a cake, but it’ll have to wait until breakfast then. And I’d rather you slept here.’

Sean gave him a lopsided grin that made Elijah blush even more.

‘I mean… that way I’m sure you won’t be seen from the outside, and you won’t, er… try to leave.’

‘I could jump out the window’, Sean stated.

‘But you could break your neck!’

‘That’s why I’ll be quite content just sleeping here until the morrow. Thank you for you generosity, Elijah. You truly are an angel.’

_Am I, really?_ Elijah thought to himself. _Why am I truly keeping Sean here?_

 

Finding it impossible to go to sleep with all the doubts and uncertainties chasing one another in his head, Elijah went to his study to try and do something useful instead. He sat down at his desk and went through his papers, but he couldn’t focus. He decided to write down his fears and questions, like he sometimes drafted his sermons before sunday. Every question he tried to answer brought him closer to the conclusion that he might have taken a wrong turn when he decided so early to lead the life of a priest. He still felt his faith vibrate strongly inside him, like one would feel the beating of their own heart. But he felt his resolve shatter when it came to leading others on the path of christianity. What right did he have, he who had such sinful thoughts and feelings, to show the way of right and wrong to the parishioners? And yet, he felt he held the main values of christianity dear in his hear, even lived them to the full in his everyday life. Charity, forgiveness, love, those were things he believe in. Being sexually attracted to men did not prevent him from being a caring leader to his flock. After all, the protestant pastors were married men with children, they had a sexual and sentimental life. But he had chosen to join the catholic order, in consideration for his upbringing ; he had never questioned it before.

And then, there was Sean. What should he do? He really felt like he had no right to decide of the man’s fate. Sean had found shelter in the church, probably hoping to get locked up unnoticed during the night, and to leave as early as possible in the morning. But fate, or God, had decided that Elijah should notice him, listen to his story, and have a choice to make. Well, if God had put Sean in Elijah’s way to test him, He would be disappointed. Elijah decided not to choose. As for his being attracted to the man, that was useless to think about it. Sean would probably be gone the next day, there was no point in thinking further on the matter. And anyway, what of it? Even if Elijah _was_ attracted, nothing proved that Sean was.

_You know it’s not true. He called you an angel twice. And he seemed so upset about the fate of his fellow inmate, Andrew, who had probably been sexually abused._ Elijah wondered hat kind of relationship Sean and Andrew had. _That’s none of your business._

Starting to feel tired and helpless, Elijah made for the couch. He was still fully clothed, clerical collar and all, but he just needed to crash and shut his own system down. Then he heard a cry upstairs.

His energy suddenly seeming fully restored, he rushed to his bedroom to find Sean in the depth of a nightmare. He was murmuring unintelligibly, all the while tossing at the covers. To his utter dismay, Elijah could now see the other man’s body stripped to his underwear, his chest heaving as he was fighting whatever demon that was filling his dreams.

Hesitantly, Elijah put a hand to his forehead, and smoothed away the curls that were tumbling in Sean’s eyes. He felt hot to the touch.

‘Sean’, he whispered, ‘wake up, you’re having a bad dream, you’re alright.’

With a start, Sean opened his eyes. They seemed unfocused for a while, then they softened when they recognized Elijah.

‘I’m sorry’, he said, ‘did I wake you up?’

‘I was not asleep. I’ll go fetch you some water, you’re burning up!’

When Elijah came back with a pitcher of ice-cold water and a glass, Sean was propped up against the pillows, looking very fragile in spite of his strong-looking body. The priest tried to avert his eyes from Sean’s chest as he handed him the glass and put the pitcher on the nightstand.

‘I should have thought you might need rehydrating after three days without food and all…’

‘You’re supposed to be a doctor of souls, not of bodies. Besides, you’ve already done so much, don’t blame yourself like this. But well, that’s to be expected, from a catholic!’

Elijah did not answer, but smiled indulgently. Sean was not far from the truth, and after all his questioning himself a moment earlier, he did not feel like arguing with him on that point. The silence stretched a bit, interrupted by Sean gulping down water and Elijah asking him if he was alright. He had sat himself on the edge of the bed, and he could feel Sean’s warmth radiating from him. He was starting to feel very uneasy when Sean grabbed his hand.

‘Look, Elijah. I think I know what’s going on inside your head. Stop torturing yourself so much.’

‘But I’m…’

‘I’ve thought hard about it, and I’ve decided that my luck or good fortune or whatever, has gone too far. Tomorrow morning I’ll go to the police, turn myself in.’

Elijah’s head started to spin. First he had thought Sean had read his mind about his attraction to him. But no, he thought Elijah was thinking about what he should do regarding the law and the escapist, and now he meant to pay for his crimes. Turn himself in. Leave.

Without thinking, he said:

‘I’ll miss you.’

Without a word, Sean gently pulled him down and kissed him.

‘I guess _that_ is troubling you, too.’

‘I can’t…’

‘Hush, it’s alright. I can’t make no fancy cake to thank you, but I know you’ll like what I can give you.’

The priest wanted to resist, to jerk back and express his indignation, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to do it. Instead, he let himself be pulled closer, encircled in Sean’s arms, and kissed deeply and passionately. He gasped for air, his head pounding.

‘This is wrong’, he said, ‘I shouldn’t do this, I’m a priest, I…’

‘That I noticed’, Sean smiled, ‘well, maybe if you got rid of that grey shirt and white collar and stood stark naked in front of me, then you’d be just a man, like me.’

The idea of being naked in front of Sean made is skin crawl in guilty anticipation, and his crotch feel tighter. Ever so gently, Sean discarded Elijah’s collar, then unbuttoned his shirt. His fingers played with the buttons on the priest’s pants. As he started to pull down the garment, Elijah jumped from his arms and out of the bed.

‘Wait, I’m going too fast, I’m sorry’, Sean said.

Without a word, Elijah went downstairs. As he rummaged through a small cardboard box in his study, he felt Sean stand behind him.

‘Elijah, I’m…’

‘Please, don’t speak, before I change my mind.’

‘That’s precisely what I hope…’

To Sean’s unbelieving eyes, Elijah was now standing up, holding a condom between his shaky fingers.

‘Where did you…’

‘Upstairs, now’, Elijah commanded, out of breath. His voice sounded strange to his own ears. He felt possessed with an unprecedented passion. Without a word, Sean turned around and climbed the stairs as fast as he could. Elijah followed, trying not to think of what he was doing, but simply following his impulse.

Back to the bedroom, Sean sat down on the bed. It seemed like he was the one being nervous this time. Elijah joined him, but as he was about to kiss him, Sean spoke up:

‘Elijah, wait. I don’t understand. You seem so forward now, but a minute ago you were freaking out. What should I make out of this?’

‘Please, don’t stop me. Don’t let me think.’

Those words, uttered in shear vulnerability, seemed to satisfy the prisoner. Sean grabbed Elijah around the waist and laid him down on the bed. A few kisses and fumbling of clothes later, they were both naked and panting for breath. Elijah suddenly seemed to know exactly what he wanted, and after they rolled around and rubbed a little against each other, Elijah straddled Sean and handed him the condom. Without hesitation, Sean opened it and unrolled it around his demanding flesh. Then, his fingers slick with his saliva and Elijah’s pre-cum, he prepared the young man’s body. At the third finger, Elijah winced a little, but soon he had his head thrown back in shear pleasure.

‘Please’, he whispered, ‘I want it, I want it now.’

Sean was happy to oblige him, and very, very carefully, he helped Elijah lower his body around his own. Moving slowly at first, the men soon found a frantic rhythm, that ended all too soon with the both of them gaping in a silent cry of pure ecstasy.

When they found back their voices a few minutes later, Elijah was cradled in Sean’s arms, his head softly resting on the prisoner’s shoulder.

‘I need to ask you something’, Sean announced. Elijah tensed slightly.

‘Where did that condom come from?’, he said with a laugh in his voice.

‘The mail. A joke from my hippie of a brother, just a few weeks ago’, Elijah answered rather blankly.

Sean laughed, and the priest joined him. But soon, his laughter turned to tears. Sean tried to hush him, rocking him quietly, but the tears couldn’t seem to stop.

‘I’m sorry’, he finally managed to say, ‘I’m so sorry. This is all so confusing to me! I don’t know what I should do. What does that mean to my being a priest?’

‘Hey, don’t try and find answers so soon, Elijah. Tomorrow I’ll be gone, and by the time I’m out of jail for good, you’ll have more than time to think about what you should do. You can’t know that I’m worth turning your whole life upside down. Maybe this is something serious, or maybe it’s just a romp in the sheets. Either way, you - we - have time to decide what to make of it. Relax and enjoy the ride for now, okay?’

‘I can’t, I’m too scared. Everything I believe in is falling appart!’

‘Everything? You still believe in that Ol’ Man up in the clouds, you still believe in loving your neighbor, charity and all that stuff, do you?’

‘Of course, but…’

‘Seems more than enough to me.’

Elijah felt that Sean was right, but he forced himself not to think too much about it. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and held Sean a little closer. Soon, they were both sleeping soundly.

 

***

Officer Peters was just unlocking the police station’s door as he did every morning when he felt someone approaching swiftly behind him. He turned around a bit nervously and asked:

‘Hello sir, may I help you?’

The sun was just rising on the horizon, and most of the town was still sleeping. In the distance, a dog barked, and a car drove by on the main street. The face of the man was partly hidden in the shadow of the dim morning light, but the officer could see that he was holding some sort of orange package in his hands.

‘Actually, I think _I_ can help you, officer’, the man said.

‘How so?’

‘I have information about an escaped convict. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.’

‘I have’, Peters answered, eager to know what the stranger had to say. ‘You’ve seen the man?’

‘I haven’t, but you have. He’s standing right in front of you.’

 

The dog barked again, another car drove by, its lights oddly misshaping the small buildings around. There was a metallic clicking sound as a pair of handcuffs were closed around the stranger’s wrists. The bell of the little catholic church rang forlornly in the morning air. 


End file.
